a sense of self
by Limey
Summary: When I lose my way, I will guide myself out of darkness. Second season, post-breakup one-shot.


**AN:** I'll keep it short--I'm quite rusty at this, so feedback is always appreciated. Also, I have more notes on this piece on my homepage, if you're curious regarding the thoughts that shaped the story.

And of course, thanks for reading.

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a sense of self.  
summary: When I lose my way, I will guide myself out of darkness.

The clock is ticking and she hates it; hates the sound that breaks the silence of each second. There is no solitude in a ticking clock. She knows this, but can't bring herself to take the battery out of the cheap plastic. The sound annoys her, but the silence she would be left with scares her.

How long has she been unaware, how long has she lived without knowing that loneliness is knowing what you've lost? The tears spring so easily to the corners of her eyes now, as she tries to keep her breathing steady.

_I saw you today. I saw the look in your eyes._ She tries to cling to hope, and yet...

_...maybe, you have reached the end of your patience with me._

His apartment is cleaner without her clutter, she is sure of that. She tries to keep her mind on stupid superfluous things. He'll have edible cookies instead of lumpy charcoal. He'll be able to study without the TV on, without being interrupted every few minutes with a question from the game show on the channel. His apartment won't look like a nursery anymore, with stuffed animals and pink artifacts cluttering up the bedroom.

And he is better off without her, without her immaturity and video-games and pointless gossip and the strands of golden hair all over the couch, the carpet, over everything... he'll have more time to spend with people that have intelligent things to think about and discuss. Her hands cover her face and swipe the tears from her eyes as she laughs at herself. She has always known that their levels were completely different, so why is she crying now? _Idiot... idiot._ The wetness runs down her chin, down the neck and collarbone that he used to kiss with the lightest touch, and she can't stop crying or laughing at her idiocy.

_How selfish--I can't... I can't leave you, no matter how much you want nothing else to do with me. I'm sorry._

She buries her face in the lacy pillow on her bed and curls into a ball, her hands shaking.

_Loving you is the only thing my past or present really knows how to do._

A wretched truth. Her memories of her past life are saturated with these feelings of emptiness, of longing at the blue orb in the night sky. She had blissfully assumed that after the strife they had endured together, the waiting and the pain, they were entitled to happiness--and after all, wasn't it destined? They were meant for each other. They were reborn to be together again, to consummate the love that could not blossom all those years ago... _Isn't that right?_

The certainty of those convictions stabs at the seams holding her together; those days seem so distant, now. All she can think about now are the little things, like how falling asleep is so difficult now without her head on the rise and fall of his chest, or how the different lifetimes and bodies have never changed the smile on his face at the sight of her... each memory is more painful than the last, and a feeling not unlike resentment wells at the bottom of her stomach. _How could you not know what your rejection of me would do to me?_

"How could you do this to me?" she breathes, and is dismayed at how the anger is palpable in her voice. The question breaks the spell of the ticking clock, and she stares at the brooch--at the Crystal set inside, reflecting hazy moonlight--on her windowsill. After a pause, she reaches for it with trembling fingers.

On nights like these, where her bitterness starts to consume her, she holds the Crystal to her chest; and she prays with eyes closed that it will purify her misery before it becomes outward anger.

Her breathing steadies, and she wills herself to think straight. It was selfish, after all, for her to think that his happiness must involve her; it was even more despicable for her to dwell upon the pain he caused her until she became vengeful and self-righteous. She knows these things, has told herself the same empty words every night while trying to find solitude in her brooch. But she repeats these words in her mind, like a mantra, to remind herself of who she is.

_I can never... no, I will never let myself hate you or blame you for this._

Steeling her resolve anew, she takes the negative feelings, the hurt and the anger, and she casts them out with tears still running down her face.

_You'll try to make me hate you, because that is the only reaction you've known when something is taken away from you. But I won't._

The painful things he'll say tomorrow--she already knows them, because she has heard them countless times. But she won't guard herself against them; the wall that might protect her from the stings and barbs will also cause her to lose sight of him. _As long as you're okay, as long as we're alive, as long as I still know you..._ She stares at the moon through her window. _Too much has been sacrificed for me to throw it all away with my lack of conviction._

Even if nothing ever happens between them again... well, maybe that is going too far, and she is not ready for those thoughts yet. But she clings to hope, to the Crystal, to the lives that they were given again, so that one day... Usagi curves her lips again, a ghost imitation of his self-deprecating smile, as she clutches the brooch even closer to her chest. Even if she must build herself back up again at the end of every day, she will without complaint because she can't stop herself from doing so, because right now it's the only thing she can do for him--

_Because I love you, Mamo-chan._ She smiles harder, and smiles so hard the tears run around the curves of her cheeks. She will not defile her feelings for him by thinking of him in any other way.

She falls asleep soon after, her resolution giving way to exhaustion; she knows the day will bring another trial to test the endurance of her heart. And there is silence, apart from her breathing: the clock is on its side on her bedroom floor, and the battery is has rolled across the carpet.

_end._


End file.
